The Word That Frees Us
by DragoonTheBoss
Summary: Zip is smitten by a troubling sickness.


Hai gaiz, the psycho's back and very much alive so! Feck, it's been a long time since I updated something on this site... my fangirl soul is ashamed. Anyway, this is for me awesome lassies from KZAA 'cause they all love Zip and Alister and 'cause I've been really, really poor at updating my first fic (which is crap, don't read it), so I guess this is my attempt of redeeming my sorry ass.

Warnings are pretty much the same. Gayness, swearing, bad writing (I'm a viking from Sweden, see). Oooh, like it already, don't you?

ENJOY! :D

* * *

Looking back, Zip realized he was able to understand why he had acted up so much about it. He was contracted by a repugnant decease, an aggressive, merciless virus that infected his intellect and, he was sure, made him look like a pathetic loon 24/7.

He tried to actually sink into the down pillow, praying to every god, computer hacker and lovesick arse there was to please magic away the pain. A muffled "fuck" emerged from somewhere deep inside the white softness.

He was yet to discover why some prick had chosen to name such an infliction of pure misery _love_, rather than _pain, indescribable pain_. From what he had felt so far, love was nothing like that shit directors fed him every late night he slopped down onto the sofa to watch the latest, most lame-ass Hollywood hit – love was a ferocious, fugly beast with teeth made to rip people's hearts out and force them to do the most undignified things just to prove themselves worthy of someone else's feelings.  
He had never experienced such fragility, like a vital part of his body had been recklessly torn out. And, more prominent, he had never felt so _stupid_.

And that, he thought bitterly to himself, still facing the pillow which seemed to enjoy wallowing in his sorrow (or, more probable, it was his own pitiful face wallowing in emo tears), is what makes me such a melodramatic bitch.

*

Now was three weeks before his 'The Whole World Is Shit And I'll Never Stop Bawling' freak out, as he was comfortably seated on his favourite chair in the luxurious setting of Croft Manor, trying to pass time at his dull job as Lara's fucking private receptionist by playing even duller video games and occasionally checking his email, casting idly glances at the wall clock every now and then. His earphones (or rather, his ears) were on the verge of busting from the heavy bass and violent tunes in Knife Party's Internet Friends:

_You blocked me on Facebook_

_And now you're going to die  
_

Without thinking his mind contemplated the words in Lara's voice and they became at once ever so menacing, in fact, it made him press the shuffle button on his iPod.

Lara Badass Croft was not a woman one fucked with, in every sense of the word. She was feisty, determined and had the same unruly manner of handling things that came in her way like a rhino on a rampage. Whilst seen as the most dangerous archaeologist on Earth she was respected and recognized as a heroine anywhere she went; an altruistic, beautiful saviour that stood out from the crowd, and showed rare compassion and fondness towards anyone not her enemy. Oh, and thanks to her many achievements and her royal ties she owned a motherfucking _ginormous_ manor whose yearly budget he was afraid to mention and a ridiculously British and posh butler named Winston who spoke with a limited vocabulary ("Sir", "Miss", "Please" were the usual).

Zip admired her in more ways he could count and would probably have been immensely attracted to her, were he not tragically gay and oh so very oppressed by it.

None had made a big deal out of it until all his friends had grown old enough to realize the black kid from the white trash ghetto hadn't been joking when he said he didn't like vaginas. Unfortunately, the confession had thwarted his plans of staying home while attending university; his drunken bastard of a father had made that perfectly clear by shoving a broken whiskey bottle in his face and, with conviction, desperately implored him to bring back his possessed son.

So by a fool's whim he became doomed to wander the streets aimlessly through pretty much his entire teenhood and, quite regrettably, befriended drugs because he wasn't one of those raw, cope-with-anything fuckers. Though most of those years felt wasted and dim like a wild night out, the memory of a very athletic and straightforward bitty suddenly popping up and restoring some sort of balance in his life, or at least a safe ground he could rest assured wouldn't toss him away when least expected, could never be forgotten.

Well, he hadn't been transformed into a tech expert by a flick of Lara's wrist, that much could be said. And now here he sat, trying to compel his mind to foresee his boss's return to England. An old routine aside from her normally informative self, Lara had taken a fancy to just desert the manor whenever she saw fit and leave her minions to hold the fort. Asking wasn't worth the risk of getting his balls cut off, but Zip wondered if maybe she was seeing someone, or at least brooding over something important.

The computer gave off a high-pitched, noisy ring that made him start as he put his headset on instantly.

"Yeah?" The voice on the other line belonged to his mistress.

"Zip, I need you to run an errand for me." Her tone was short, snappy, like she was in a rush. Zip's expectations dropped quickly. Not another trip to the rooftop?

"I thought your tux-wearing robot was the one responsible for all that", he said in mirth, though his smug undertone faltered when he heard Lara's next words:

"I want you to greet my new colleague at the entrance."


End file.
